


Phosphorus on the Vagrant Waters

by greenforsnow



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Style, First Time, Five Year Mission, Getting Together, Light Pining, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, depictions of bigotry towards aliens, new alien species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25015753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenforsnow/pseuds/greenforsnow
Summary: When the Federation discovers a man known for advocating violence against non-humans has taken interest in an uninhabited planet, the Enterprise is ordered to investigate. When Spock and Jim are caught in a cave-in on the surface, they come face-to-face with the secrets that both they and the planet have been hiding.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 80
Kudos: 285
Collections: T’hy’la Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for T'hy'la Bang 2020
> 
> Thank you to my incredibly talented artist [idealisticcatastasis](https://idealisticcatastasis.tumblr.com/) who created the beautiful art and amazing page dividers for this piece. Please check out the work and give it love [here](https://idealisticcatastasis.tumblr.com/post/622471291824422912/when-the-federation-discovers-a-man-known-for) Go check out the rest of his art as well- it is all great.
> 
> Thank you to [delgaserasca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delgaserasca/pseuds/delgaserasca) for your brilliant beta-work as well as your cheerleading, support, and general awesomeness. This would not have gotten written without you. All mistakes that remain are my own.

Jim wasn’t bored. Bored wasn’t a word he would ever use to describe his mood when he was out in space. That was a word that was reserved for long dinners and parties at Command; for interviews where he got asked the same five questions over and over again. No, he was not bored. He was, however, _antsy_. He had things to do. He finished all his regular reports quickly. He eagerly checked in and met with the heads of departments, and worked on personnel matters with gusto. Unfortunately, it did not fill all of his on-duty time. They hadn’t detected any lifeforms on any of the planets they had passed by in over a week. There had been no phenomena, or really anything unusual, to be seen at all. The most exciting thing happening on the ship was star charting, which, while it could be fascinating, wasn’t enough to hold Jim’s focus. 

So, really, it should not have surprised Jim when Spock entered his quarters with a determined look on his face and his eyebrows already quirked in slight amusement. 

Spock sat down facing Jim’s desk. The small smile lingered around the corners of his eyes before he spoke. “Captain,” he began. 

Jim couldn’t help the grin that broke out over his face. “Am I about to get scolded?” he asked. 

Spock raised his eyebrows. “Not at all. I don’t believe I’ve ever had the need to scold you before.” 

“Mm,” Jim replied, “I suppose not. Although I wouldn’t object, if you ever felt the need.” 

“You have always shown that you are open to criticism,” Spock agreed. “Which brings me to my question: are you bored?” 

Jim laughed. “No,” he said quickly. “How could I be bored with this around us?” He reached a hand out towards the small viewing window by his bed. “And in my free time I have you, and you always keep me entertained, and—”

Jim paused. He was sure even Spock would catch the double entendre in that statement. He hadn’t meant it, but these things always seemed to bubble out of him when he was around his first officer. His hidden desires sneaking their way to the surface, is what Bones would say if Jim told him. Not that Jim was going to tell him. He cleared his throat and fiddled with the collar on his shirt, very aware of the color rising up from his chest into his cheeks. 

“And our crew,” he added quickly. “They are all doing fascinating work. Even the navigation crew have been so detailed in the way they are charting this system.” He looked at Spock, hoping he had moved fast enough to bury the implication of his previous words.

Spock tilted his head and looked at Jim closely. “That is perhaps the point. Ensign Alemayehu came to me… slightly concerned,” Spock said, slowly. 

Jim shifted. If a crewman had come to Spock about him, it was not a good sign. Not that Spock wasn’t admired by the men working under him— quite the opposite. However, Jim understood why many crewmen were initially intimidated by him, and Ensign Alemayehu had come aboard recently. 

“He was worried that you didn’t have confidence in his abilities to perform his duties adequately,” Spock said in an even voice. “You have been reviewing the charts he’s been creating, frequently.”

Jim rubbed his hand over his face. He hadn’t even really given any thought to the fact that the ensign would notice that he had been looking over the charts, but now that Spock brought it up he could see how it could be interpreted. “I was just… curious,” Jim said. “There isn’t much else going on besides the star charting work— and ongoing experiments of course.”

“I attempted to explain to him that you were most likely a more involved commanding officer than most new crew members were used to, but he did not appear to be put at ease by my attempts at reassurance,” Spock said.

No, Jim could imagine the conversation now. As good as Spock was at so many things, this type of conversation fell more squarely into Jim’s strengths than Spock’s. “I’ll talk to him,” Jim said. “And I’ll also work to— spread out my attention more equally.”

After that, they fell back into their regular post-shift pattern. Each wrote up reports - simple and routine given the relative peace - and handed them to the other when they were finished. Afterwards, Jim said, “I know you need to go check on the microfilament manifold lab, but chess afterwards?”

Spock nodded. “That would be enjoyable, Jim.” 

Jim tried not to dwell on the warmth that spread through his chest at the words. It wasn’t as if Jim weren’t aware of his feelings for Spock. It was just that he felt it was best for both of them if he… kept them in check. As much as possible. Something that was becoming more and more difficult. 

They had both won one game before Spock announced he had to go to the labs to finish his work there. 

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you were trying to keep the peace,” Jim said as he was packing up the chess set.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, “Over the course of our time together we have played 605 chess games. You have won 288 while I have only won 267, with 50 left incomplete due to outside circumstances such as red alerts or Dr. McCoy interrupting to demand that you go to sleep.”

Jim chuckled.

“So, if I were trying to _keep the peace_ , as you say, I would have left after winning three additional games,” Spock concluded. 

Jim chuckled. “Point noted, Mr. Spock. Tell Alemayehu I’d like a word, if he’s free. Best to get this cleared up soon.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Alemayehu entered with his head down; his hands were toying with the hem of his uniform shirt and Jim felt a surge of guilt. The last thing he wanted was for any member of his crew to feel uncomfortable around him. It was unfair that his own... antsiness had caused this in the first place.

Jim smiled warmly. “I owe you an apology, Ensign,” Jim said, and gestured for him to have a seat. 

Alemayehu sat down, still looking startled. 

“I’ve been informed that my…” he paused, fighting the start of a smile as he remembered Spock’s words - he didn’t want the ensign thinking he was mocking him, “my enthusiasm for the work you are doing has made you uncomfortable.”

“Sir, I didn’t—” 

Jim waved a hand. “It’s understandable. No one wants their superior officer looking over their shoulder. I’ve had some spare time, and you have done such a good job with your charts that I just picked up the habit of reviewing them while I’m in the chair. I assure you, I have full faith in your work. You’ve made interesting connections between the system we are in and the Keturn system. I’ll stop reviewing every chart if you promise me you’ll allow me to come talk to you about any more points of interest every now and then?”

Alemayehu’s eyes were still wide, but he looked slightly calmer. “Of course, sir!” A smile broke through his shock, and Jim relaxed slightly knowing that he had not permanently scarred the young man. He was about to ask him a follow up question - sensing that if he got him talking about his work that he would relax enough to believe Jim’s reassurance fully - but then a chime rang from his computer.

“Kirk here,” he answered.

Alemayehu stood, and Jim dismissed him with a nod and smile. 

“We have new orders from Command for you to review, sir,” Uhura said. “I’m sending them to your computer. Shall I send them to Commander Spock as well?”

“He’s in the labs. I’ll bring them to him as long as it’s not urgent.” Jim was already skimming the report.

“Not urgent, sir,” Uhura replied.

Jim finished reading over the report from Command, and commed the bridge on his way to find Spock. “Set a course for Igras VI. Crew briefing at 0700.”

Jim enjoyed the walk to the labs. He sidled up to the door of the third biology lab where he knew Spock was working. He was sitting at a table across from a young ensign who was talking enthusiastically. There was a large, fern-like plant between them on the table whose tendrils were slowly waving and curling. Jim paused by the door, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, and pleased to have a chance to watch Spock work. It was clear the ensign was both overwhelmed and honored by Spock’s individual attention. Her eyes were wide and eager, and although Spock looked as measured and calm as usual, Jim could tell by the look in his eyes that the ensign was onto something good. Spock responded to her patiently, asking questions to direct her. Jim loved watching Spock work like this. Spock’s curiosity and intense interest was the driving force behind their science division. His influence was clear in every report Jim read - not in an overbearing way - just in the earnestness and careful thoughtfulness. 

Jim had been standing in the doorway out of either of the pair’s direct eyeline, but it only took a few moments before Spock looked up. “Can I help you, Captain?”

Jim grinned and stepped into the room. “I should know by now not to try to sneak up on a Vulcan.” Jim flashed a smile at the ensign. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I have a new assignment from Command to review, whenever you’re done.”

The ensign stood quickly. “If I start now, Mr. Spock, I can get enough readings of the bioastinct levels by next shift, and I’ll be able to to start working on an analysis.”

Spock nodded his consent, and the ensign rushed past Jim out the door with a quick _Captain_ of acknowledgement as she sped by.

“She certainly is enthusiastic,” Jim said with a gesture towards her retreating back. 

“Her project could have significant ramifications on treatment of laponchion flu, but she still struggles with some basic procedures, like cleaning her work station.” Spock said, and raised his eyebrow as he stood and began to clear the PADDs and plants from the desk in front of him.

Jim chuckled and moved to help Spock clean up. They finished and walked to the lifts. They arrived wordlessly at one of the observation decks, and Jim warmed at the intimacy of the moment - of someone knowing him well enough to be this in sync. 

It was one of Jim’s favorite places on the ship outside of the bridge. The low glow of the lighting and the bright sparks coming from the stars combined to light Spock’s skin and eyes in a way that was incredibly striking. Jim had to make a conscious effort not to stare. 

Jim laid the PADD on the ledge between them. 

“They want us to go back to Igras VI,” Jim said as Spock reached down and began to read. 

“This fool, Chadwick, has taken interest in the planet. He’s been spouting the same hateful anti-alien sentiments for years now, but it seems Starfleet is concerned now that he has taken his ideology off Earth. He’s also a known arms dealer. That incident last year with that group of Belfanes? He sold them the incendiary devices. Not only that, he was in their ears, telling them their government’s peaceful ideology was going to lead to their extinction. He thinks every species should be in it for themselves. Doesn’t believe in the Federation, thinks that humans have taken a submissive role, and that we need to be stronger and show our dominance over other species.”

Jim paused over the photo of the man, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“Do you know him?” Spock asked his sharp gaze focusing on Jim’s face. 

“He was at the Academy with me,” Jim said and rolled his shoulders back in a stretch.

“This man is in Starfleet?” 

“No,” Jim said, “he left in our second year. There was some conflict between him and his roommate…” Jim searched his memory, “but I heard he left voluntarily. I didn’t know him well. He gave me a bad feeling - something about him felt off. Like he had a way of presenting himself, but it seemed like it was covering something. Like flowers around a rotting carcass.”

“It appears your _gut_ was correct,” Spock said with a quirked eyebrow, “once again.”

Jim chuckled, but his expression quickly sombered. “I wish it hadn’t been in this case. The things he’s written, the threats he’s made—” he shook his head. “We can continue to make progress for decades - centuries - but then there are people like him who want to undo all of that, and for what? A sense of superiority? Some twisted belief that the only way to be strong is to show dominance over others?” Jim shook his head again. 

"Jim," Spock said gently. "I have witnessed a lot of humanity over the course of my time with Starfleet. I have seen the cruelty and the carelessness. It doesn’t help to deny the bad in the world.”

Jim nodded in agreement. “We can’t distance ourselves from the systems of hatred in our past, or deny there are still those among us who feel that way.”

Spock’s gaze warmed. “I have also seen the best of humanity. I have seen the examples that we should all strive for. The generosity and kindness. The open curiosity and endless capacity to strive for more and for better." Spock paused, and Jim flushed. The intensity in the Vulcan’s eyes was unwavering and full of intent. 

"Jim," he began again, "you have been a consistent example of the best of what humanity is capable of." 

Jim swallowed thickly. "Spock," he said, his voice embarrassingly shaky. “I have made mistakes. I have hurt people and I—"

"Jim," Spock interrupted, "you misunderstand. The ability to grow and learn from mistakes, to admit when you have been wrong - that is something that humans do extraordinarily well. That is something that you do extraordinarily well." 

Jim placed a grateful hand on Spock’s forearm and froze for a moment, struck by the faith Spock had in him, and the way the stars reflected in his dark eyes. He knew he was standing too close. They had leaned closer to read the PADD together, but now, looking up at Spock, he was very aware of just how close they were. He felt suspended in this single instant - his instinct to make a joke to lighten the moment faded, and he didn’t trust what he would do next. He took a steadying breath and tried to remember every reason he had drilled into his head about why this was a bad idea. They seemed to have evaporated from his memory under the intensity of Spock’s eyes on him. He swore he felt Spock lean into his hand. He knew he needed to pull back before he did something stupid, before he ruined the work he had done in carefully building their friendship, their partnership. He gave himself three more seconds to admire the warmth in Spock’s eyes, to imagine pulling him even closer - imagine a world in which that is what Spock wanted too - where that was what the inscrutable expression on his face meant. He took a breath that was shakier than he’d like to admit, ready to go back to reality. 

Just then, the door to the observation deck opened, and two lieutenants froze at the sight of them, smiles fading off of their faces into looks of shock. 

“Oh! Sir, uh, I mean.. sirs. We’re sorry,” the first lieutenant said, blushing, wide eyes flitting between Spock and Jim. Spock was standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. Jim thought he looked like someone who had very much just been caught doing something inappropriate with his captain, and Jim wished he would look more relaxed. 

“We didn’t mean to interrupt,” the second lieutenant blurted out before grabbing the other's arm and practically running out the door. 

Jim froze when the doors shut behind the pair. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see the expression on Spock’s face. He wasn’t even sure what he would want to see there. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Standing not saying anything was only making the situation more uncomfortable. 

“Well, that’s how rumors get started,” Jim said, trying his hardest to make his voice sound light and casual. He looked at Spock who was standing with his hands on the ledge in front of them. Jim could see the firmness of his grip, but beyond that Spock was unreadable. 

Ironically, Jim’s urge was to comfort himself with touch - reach out and place a hand on Spock’s shoulder, reassuring both of them that things could be normal. Instead, he gave Spock a smile that he sincerely hoped masked the worry in his eyes.

“I believe rumors have already started, Captain,” Spock said quietly. 

Jim lurched, guilt quickly pooling in the depth of his stomach. This was all his fault. He knew he was friendly with Spock, but he thought he had contained himself when it came to showing too much of his true feelings towards him. He knew that ship’s gossip was a powerful force, but for some reason he had never thought it would be focused on Spock and himself. 

“Spock, I’m sorry,” Jim said, searching the Vulcan’s face. “Humans have a tendency to gossip, especially in close quarters, and it is even more tantalizing when it is about their superior officers. And when one of them is— well.” He smiled at Spock, tight-lipped and cautious. “I hope it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable. I know I can be—” 

“No,” Spock interrupted. “You are not at fault.” His voice was clipped and short. It was the tone he used when he very much wanted the conversation to be over. 

Jim looked down at his hands, clasped together in front of him. 

“People often make false assumptions when they do not understand all of the facts,” Spock added in his same business-like voice. 

Jim ran his hand through his hair and made himself look back up at Spock. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of people assuming they were sharing an intimate moment. Everything from the way he was standing to the way he could not quite meet Jim’s eyes proved that. But then what had been happening before the lieutenants had come in? Was Jim so delusional that he had invented the heat in Spock’s eyes? Was he so desperate for the Vulcan that he had ignored the signals he had given and substituted them for the ones he wished for?

“What are all the facts?” he asked. It was as close as he could get to asking what he wanted to know, and even saying that made him swallow down the shame he often felt from wanting more from Spock, who had been so generous with his gift of friendship, and here he was, greedily, desperately wanting more. 

“We have a strong friendship based on mutual respect and shared experiences. You have the tendency to express your friendship frequently, and in quite emotional and tactile ways. I value your friendship, and have perhaps responded in ways that could be seen as inappropriate for a Vulcan. However, I made choices about my behavior based on many factors, including a desire for you to understand the value I place on our companionship.”

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but was unsure what to say. He was still trying to work through what Spock had said. He had the feeling that he was walking on unsteady ground here. It was not that long ago that Spock had admitted to him that he was struggling with his feelings of friendship. Jim wanted to be careful, didn’t want to push. He was worried that Spock felt he needed to do things that made him uncomfortable just so Jim would be able to know that he thought of him as a friend. The thought turned Jim’s stomach.

“Spock, you don’t have to—” he began before trailing off. 

The muscles of Spock’s jaw visibly tightened.

“Spock, our friendship is the most important thing to me,” he tried again. “I don’t want you—” _to feel like you have to prove yourself to me_ was the end of that sentence, but Jim froze when he saw the look on Spock’s face. His eyes were dark and closed off. He looked like he wasn’t breathing. 

“Spock, are you okay?” Jim asked, concerned. He should not have pushed this conversation; it was clear Spock was uncomfortable with it. But he had, and for what? Some desperate attempt for reassurance of an imagined moment. 

“I’m fine, Captain,” Spock said. “I, too, have no desire to change the current state of our friendship.”

 _Damn_. _Did he think I was trying to… ask for more?_ Jim thought. The words stung, but not as much as the idea that Spock had felt any kind of pressure from him. 

“I need to return to the lab,” Spock said shortly.

“Right. Of course. We’ll brief the crew at 0700 hours. Goodnight, Mr. Spock.”

“Goodnight, Captain.”

Spock did not return to the labs. He instead went to his quarters, and hoped that Jim would not return immediately to his own and notice that Spock had misled him about his reasons for leaving the observation lounge. 

He leaned against the door once it was safely closed and he was sure he was alone. His breathing was faster than it should be, and he had a difficult time removing his focus from Jim’s words. _I don’t want you..._ The sentence had been unfinished. Jim stumbling over words was a rare occasion. The unspoken end of the sentence cut a wave of shame through Spock’s mind. He had been too open with his affections. The ease he felt with Jim had softened too many of his walls and he had allowed his mind to give way to a dangerous flow of _want_. It couldn’t happen anymore. He thought of the pain clear on every line of Jim’s face as he had tried to gently turn down a proposition that Spock hadn’t even been aware he’d been making. He took a shuddering breath and collected himself, determined to do better.

Later, on the bridge, Spock kept his line of sight carefully focused on his viewscreen, even as Jim addressed the crew.

“As you may remember, Igras VI is a small M-class planet, primarily made up of two distinct ecosystems: one mostly covered in rocks and ice, and a desert that joins an arid ecosystem. On our last visit, we did not detect any lifeforms nor anything of geological interest and left it at that. However, it appears that Chadwick and his crew have taken an interest. Starfleet has ordered us to investigate what he is doing here and why he might have chosen the planet as his base. It appears to have no strategic value and it is unclear what if any resources he could be finding here. The mineral composition does not hold anything of value, based on our reports. Our mission is to find out what he is doing here and stop him if necessary. Lieutenant Uhura, hail his vessel.”

“No response, Captain,” Uhura said a few minutes later. Spock’s attempt to focus solely on his own station faltered, and he looked up to see the captain's reaction. He had not shown it in front of other members of the crew, but he was bothered by Chadwick; Spock could see it in the tension in his shoulders. 

“No real surprise there,” Jim said with a cock of his head and a smile. “Keep trying as we approach the planet, Lieutenant, but I don’t expect him to acknowledge us. Mr. Spock and I will beam down to the planet. Send the brief to Ensigns Roone and Astin, and tell them to join us in the transporter room at 1100 hours.”

Jim rose from his chair to check the status of Chadwick and his crew’s most likely beam-down coordinates, based on their location in orbit around the planet. He didn’t look at Spock as he passed by his station, and Spock noted and filed away the worry that started to grow in the corners of his mind. 

Jim was aware of the cold air hitting his face before the transporter beam even fully faded. He shivered, grateful for the temperature-controlled uniforms, but still wishing he had brought some kind of scarf. He instinctively glanced at Spock. He knew the Vulcan was capable of handling the cold temperature just like any human member of his crew, but he also knew Spock wouldn’t mention even if the cold was too much for him. Spock’s brow was slightly furrowed, but it looked more focused than distressed. Jim let his eyes focus on the scenery beyond Spock’s alert face. The whole landscape was such a shock of white that it took a moment before Jim could distinguish more than a bright blur. Slowly, large rocks came into focus, just as white as the gravelled ground, brutally reflecting the sun’s light back at them. The science team’s initial assessment of the planet seemed correct as far as Jim could see. It was a lifeless wasteland, scattered with boulders, and a vast white tundra, which stretched out towards what Jim assumed was a blueish horizon, where the desert region of the planet began. 

“Roone, Astin - start your scans in the second quadrant, and then move on to the first. Keep your phasers out and on stun. We didn’t see any traces of Chadwick's men, but I don’t want to take any chances. Report back any anomalous readings. Spock, with me.”

The two ensigns started out in the other direction, and Spock pulled out his tricorder. 

Jim’s fingers flexed around his phaser as he took in the bleakness of the planet’s surface. He didn’t remember Chadwick being particularly clever or strategically minded, but he had a certain magnetism that drew people towards him. It was possible that the team that he had amassed was much more skilled than he was, which meant they needed to be prepared and cautious. There was something strange about the planet. Jim had been on plenty of lifeless planets like this one, but there was something that made him uneasy - a prickling sensation that they were not alone. 

Spock looked up from the tricorder, and fixed Jim with an inquiring glance. “You appear agitated, Captain.”

“There’s something off here,” Jim said.

“Again, I believe that you may be correct. Impercise, but correct. There’s something here, but it isn’t being picked up by the tricorder,” Spock said. 

“How do you know then?” Jim asked. “Don’t tell me _you’re_ getting a gut feeling.”

Spock raised both eyebrows. “No, Captain.”

Jim chuckled at the amount of indignation Spock was capable of showing with such a small gesture, warmth filling his chest despite the cold. Maybe things could stay normal between him and Spock after the encounter in the observation lounge. 

“Spock?” Jim asked when he did not elaborate. Spock was standing still at a strange rock formation, taking scans again. Jim walked back towards him. 

“I sense there may be some unusual telepathic activity, but my tricorder isn’t programmed to scan for that.”

Jim stepped closer and looked closely at the formation. The rocks were perched in a circle that almost looked like a large fire pit. He carefully nudged one of the top ones with his boot. It didn’t seem to go into the ground, and gave way slightly as he applied more pressure. “We could move some of these top rocks,” he said as he crouched to examine them more closely. He wasn’t expecting to be able to pick up on the telepathic energy that Spock did, but the feeling of unease in his gut intensified, and he bent closer. 

Spock knelt beside him and carefully lifted one of the larger rocks. Jim blinked and swallowed at the stark reminder of the Vulcan’s superior strength. He stopped himself from ogling his first officer by attempting to move the stone in front of him. After a few minutes of heavy lifting, they had managed to move aside the top layer of rocks, which revealed a dark opening into the ground below. 

“Thoughts, Mr. Spock?” Jim asked.

Spock took a moment before responding. “It is possible that the composition of the rocks could block our sensors from taking accurate readings of what is below the surface. It is not uncommon for there to be life below the surface of planets that are otherwise inhospitable.”

“And if there are lifeforms, or even valuable minerals underground, that would do more to explain Chadwick's interest…”

Spock’s brow furrowed. “It would be unusual for there not to be signs of life on the surface, even if the ecology of the planet is subterranean.”

Jim could almost feel the excited, curious energy radiating from Spock as he opened his tricorder again.

“Unusual, but not impossible,”Jim amended. “Besides we’ve seen stranger things than that.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed, his eyebrows moving up in amusement. 

Jim smiled as he commed the rest of the landing party, and then returned to trying to widen the opening. “What do you think is under here?”

Spock made a few adjustments to the tricorder before responding. “It appears there is significant open space. It’s likely to be a cave system of some type. Most likely labyrinthian passages carved into stone from the passage of water many millennia ago.”

Jim felt something in the ground shift as he moved another rock. “And the structural stability?”

Before Spock could answer there was a growling shift of rocks and sand. Jim felt the ground slip beneath his feet, and immediately curled his body in on itself as he fell beneath the earth. 

Once the rocks and sand had settled, Jim got to his knees. “Spock!” He crawled forward with his hands out. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, and felt pain shooting along his shoulder, but it didn’t feel severe. He couldn’t see beyond a small opening above him. The ground was cold, slightly damp - sharp edges of rocks occasionally interrupted by patches of soft soil.

“Jim,” Spock’s voice came miraculously from behind him. 

Jim charged forward, too fast to be safe, but he already felt panic receding at the sound of his first officer’s voice. “Are you alright?” He ran straight into Spock, chest against chest. Jim took a small step back, but reached out and grasped his arms. His eyes were starting to adjust. He could make out the elegant lines of Spock’s face, his shoulders. 

“I believe I am unharmed,” Spock said, and Jim sighed. 

“Alright, how are we going to get out of this one?” Jim craned his neck up - the tunnel they had fallen down appeared smooth. It would be hard to climb out. He tried his communicator, but was greeted only by silence. 

He looked up to see that the rest of the landing party was crowded around the opening, several meters up. Jim signaled to them that he and Spock were unharmed. If they could have the ship beam them down some rope they would be able to lower it down, and if they widened the opening slightly, it was possible he and Spock could climb up. Jim was concerned that the ground and walls around them may not be stable enough to withstand that kind of movement, but at the moment it seemed the option with the quickest outcome and least risk. 

Jim felt the shaking of the ground before he heard Spock cry out. He quickly looked up at the opening the ensigns were making. The tunnel they had fallen into was made up of large rocks packed in between dense layers of sand. But each time they moved a rock, the sand became less and less stable. "Stop!" he heard Spock yell, but it was too late. Jim dove towards Spock, covering his body from the inevitable rockfall, and leaning close over him. Spock's tense eyes flashed with something sharp - anger perhaps. They were the last thing that Jim saw before the sensation of falling overcame him, and the small window of light faded as they fell into the cave system further underground. Jim couldn't tell how far they fell. He tried to count the seconds in his head even as he held his hands over his head, attempting to mitigate the falling rocks and sand. They hit a surface that was surprisingly soft. He waited a moment for his breath to return before turning to Spock. He looked safe, as far as Jim could see in the soft, purple light. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you—” Jim began to ask as he disentangled himself from the Vulcan.

“I am unharmed. And you?”

Jim stretched. There was a dull pain in his side, but he suspected it was just bruising. “Yes. Do you know how far down we fell?”

“I estimate we are approximately 45.7 meters below where we originally fell.” Spock pulled out his tricorder, and fiddled with some of the settings as Jim looked around. They were in a small opening that had paths branching out from its center. The ground was smooth but the walls stretched up jagged and tall. The way they had fallen was now filled with rubble. It would not be easy to find a way back to the surface, Jim thought. Assuming Spock’s estimate was within the correct range, which it usually was, it would take them at least a day to climb back to the surface - even if they found a passage that led them straight out. They would need water, and some source of food, before they tried to traverse the cave system. As always, Jim had a few emergency rations tucked into his boots, but without water they would not be helpful.

He turned to Spock who looked up at him at the same time. “The tricorder isn’t damaged, but it’s not functional. There is a powerful interference.”

“We’ll have to make do with our brains and our senses,” Jim said. “Luckily, we’ve got good heads on our shoulders. We shouldn’t stay here. The crew won’t be able to find us this far under the surface anyway. There don’t appear to be any resources here. We have to start looking for a way back to the surface - or at least close enough that we can get in contact with the ship.”

Spock was staring at the wall. He dragged a hand along its rough surface, his long fingers skimming through a layer of dust. Jim, momentarily distracted by the sight of the purple glow lighting his skin, swallowed then shook his head. It was not the time to become fixated on his first officer’s fingers, for fuck’s sake. “Spock?”

Spock turned to him and snapped his hands together behind his back. “I agree, Captain,” he said. “It is likely there are underground reservoirs of water that we should be able to locate. I suggest we start by trying to find a place near a water source to make camp. We can start assessing the terrain and surrounding tunnels from there to decide the best course of action.”

Jim picked up a loose stone from the pile around them and handed it to Spock. “Mark the direction we go every time we make a turn,” he said, and decisively chose a direction to walk in.

“I can’t say I’ve ever really enjoyed being underground,” Jim said. “Feels too easy to get trapped.”

“Many diverse and interesting ecosystems exist in subterranean environments,” Spock said.

Jim looked pointedly at the barren rock around them. “This is why you chose to specialize in subterranean ecology?”

Spock raised his eyebrows in concession. “I admit it would not be my first choice of location to study.”

Jim tried to keep his smile from turning smug, but he loved the way Spock looked at him when he did, all playful indignation and fake scowls. 

After a few moments of silence Jim interrupted it again. “It’s likely the reason that we couldn’t locate Chadwick on the surface was because he is somewhere underground. This system seems extensive. There could be other surprises hiding here. Keep those ears open.”

“Always, Captain,” Spock said, and Jim didn’t need to look at his face to imagine the look there. He chuckled. 

“You know, Spock, this makes me wonder, how many planets have we passed by - labeled as just floating chunks of ice and rock - that have something more to them that we just weren’t able to detect?”

“I have often found myself considering the same thought. I am working on a way to expand the phenomena our sensors can detect. Despite years of Federation space travel, they are still focused on a narrow range of qualifications.”

Jim’s calves were aching by the time they rounded a bend in the tunnel and came out into a vast opening.

Jim couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips as they moved out into the cavern from the cramped tunnel. The ceilings were high here; bright purple light came from structures hanging from the ceiling that looked like staghorn coral, and they reflected in a pool of water in the center of the room. Deep maroon algae grew along the edges of the water, and extended underneath. The lights reflected on the water's surface made it look like it was moving. Jim realized with a start that there could have been— there was airflow in here that swept away the musty, stale scent of the previous corridors, and he felt as though he could breathe properly again. Airflow meant there could be a connection from here to the surface. The glowing lights looked almost glass, and the high ceilings and cloaked air gave Jim a feeling of being in an ancient temple. He wasn’t surprised when his voice came out in a whisper. 

“Your assessment, Spock?”

“This would be an adequate place to make our base.”

“We need rest. Check out that pool. I’ll see what else I can find.”

Jim began walking in concentric circles around the edges of the cavern, but he kept an eye on Spock as he moved.

Spock knelt beside the edge of the pool, and rubbed the algae between his fingers. Jim could tell that he was frustrated by being cut off from his usual ability to gain knowledge through readings and data. Still, he enjoyed watching Spock work. He could almost feel the thoughts running through Spock’s brain as he tried to determine the qualities based on the texture, smell, and whatever else he could gain using both his senses and the vast collection of information he had on other ecosystems and species.

“So there is life here,” Jim said, taking a break from his exploration to sit beside Spock at the water’s edge. 

“I cannot yet determine what the interference is, but I suspect it is keeping us from being able to detect anything far below the planet’s surface,” Spock said with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Something you can’t figure out, Spock? I suppose sooner or later it was inevitable - though I admit, it is unnerving to hear you say it aloud.”

“I said I had not determined it yet, Captain, not that I would not be able to. I assure you, I will figure out what the source of the interference is.”

Jim brought a hand to his chest in exaggeration. “Well, phew, that is a relief.”

“I aim to please.”

Jim grinned, eyes locked for a moment with Spock’s before Spock turned back to his analysis of the water.

“I cannot say for certain, but the water is flowing from an estuary. It is a cold temperature, and appears clear. It should be safe to drink, though I suggest we boil it if we can start a fire. “

Jim smiled at Spock as he hung up long lengths of the seaweed over one of the protruding rocks. It hadn't gotten too cold here in the protected depths of the cave, but he was still worried, not being able to see what time it was, and not knowing the planet's weather patterns. As much as they could guess, based on planets like this one, there was no real way of knowing what could happen in the next few hours. The cold could come hard and fast. He hoped they could get a few hours of sleep.

"Someday, Mr. Spock," he said, "I am going to take you on a real camping trip. One with a proper campfire, and we can sing songs, and roast marshmallows.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. "There is nothing to stop us from singing songs now, Captain," he said. 

Jim laughed. "No, I want to do it with you when there is no imminent threat. It's hard to truly enjoy the moment when I am worried you are about to freeze to death, or run off performing some act of heroics, and end up falling down some rock slide."

"I do not perform acts of heroics, Jim." Spock said plainly.

Jim narrowed his eyes at him. "Yeah, yeah. Of course not. That wouldn't be very logical. So, tell me, why do I always have to worry about that when we're on missions?"

"I could present you with numerous examples of times when it was you who ‘ran off on heroics’. I think that is a more appropriate concern for me to have."

"Touché. No need to go ahead and prepare a presentation; your point has been made."

"In that case, I suggest we both stay here and try to get rest." 

"Agreed," Jim said. Spock lay down beside him. They were close; Jim could feel his body heat. He tried not to be distracted by the sensation of Spock next to him. Tried not to imagine turning towards him and wrapping their bodies together - tried not to imagine the exquisite sensation of Spock's solid back pressing against his chest, the comfort of it, the promise it would involve. He shook his head, though the thoughts and images remained firmly in his mind, and turned just his head to face Spock as he opened his mouth to say goodnight. He was surprised to see Spock already looking at him. Their faces were inches apart, Spock's eyes wide and dark, reflecting specks of purple light. "Good night, Spock," Jim said, very aware how unsteady his voice sounded, and of the small amount of space between them. Aware that he should pull back, and that he definitely shouldn't be looking at Spock's lips. 

"Goodnight, Jim," Spock said, and Jim could feel his breath against his cheek. Jim took a breath and forced himself to turn back away. He wasn't sure what had changed between them during that tense moment on the observation deck, but it felt clear to him that something had shifted, their carefully constructed boundaries and walls faded and torn. The pillar of their friendship was unsettled, and he felt as if he could no longer control his basic reactions around Spock - not that he had ever been especially good at it. But now it felt like his whole heart was an exposed nerve. The mere movement of Spock's knee against his thigh as he adjusted on the ground now felt pressured and alive. If this kept up, he wouldn’t make it to the end of the mission without doing something reckless.

Jim awoke suddenly to Spock's hand grasping his arm tightly. He was already sitting up, a finger held to his lips. Jim paused, his heart beating fast, until he heard the distinct sound of human voices coming from somewhere above them, distorted and echoing down into the chamber. Jim sat up too, and strained to hear. It was unlikely that these were the voices of their own crew. Chadwick. If Jim and Spock had found this underground world, it was clear that he could as well. 

Jim slowly got to his feet, and Spock followed behind him. He secured his phaser to his belt, and motioned for Spock to follow him. He was unsure which way to go, but picked one of the tunnels that lead upwards since the voices were clearly coming from above them. He glanced back at Spock, and was relieved to see his own apprehension mirrored on Spock's face. This was not an ideal spot for a confrontation, not when Chadwick and his men had the advantage of knowing the terrain, while Jim and Spock did not know the situation they were walking into. 

Jim climbed slowly, trying his best not to make too much sound. Spock, of course, was following noiselessly behind him, his footing sure, even as he marked their way along the tunnel walls, changing direction as they tried to get closer to the source of the sounds. Eventually they came to an outcropping that overlooked another open chamber, though not quite as big as the one they had been resting in. Chadwick was standing over a pair of men who were bent low over a table, with a chunk of what looked like the cave wall on a wide dish. They were prodding it with long metallic sticks. 

"I don't understand how you haven't been able to elicit any results yet," Chadwick was saying. His voice was low and clipped, and Jim could tell he was trying to make it sound intimidating.

Spock felt Jim tense beside him. Instinctually, he grasped his forearm to stop him from jumping forward to confront Chadwick. He understood Jim’s instinct. He had been able to tell that the idea of Chadwick had irritated Jim before. He had seemed to take the fact that he had been at the Academy as a personal affront. Spock was not sure he understood - just because someone shared elements of the same past did not mean that they were connected to you. Still, Spock understood Jim's intense disdain for any kind of hatred or prejudice. He could tell that Jim would want to jump into action now that they had a lead - something more to do than wandering around passages and hoping to come upon a means of escape. And, to Jim's credit, he was often successful when it came to convincing others to give up information. It was slightly unnerving. He had a way of making people want to talk - want to open up - even when they were meant to be adversaries. He didn't doubt Jim's ability to get the information they needed. He was, however, worried for his safety. In this situation, observing from a distance was the better choice. 

He felt Jim's strong arms flex under his grip, but Jim himself cast him a small smile. "Understood, Mr. Spock," he said in the softest whisper he could manage. 

Jim slipped closer to the edge of the precipice, his grip tight around his phaser. Spock followed him, and strained to see the men in the center of the room. Chadwick sat down on a large rock with his feet propped against the wall. He was using a scrap of metal to clean underneath his nails as he watched his men. Spock did not see how he felt his presence and stern looks would motivate his men to work any faster. He felt Jim shift impatiently next to him.

"Look, if I needed someone to come and prod these things with electric rods while making dumb faces, I wouldn't have bothered to hire you. You've just been useless mouths to feed so far. But you swore you had backgrounds in xenophysiology. It's time for you to prove your worth. What's going on here? Can we use them?"

His men gave each other wary looks out of the corners of their eyes. 

"Sir," one began, "we are trying, but this could take some time. Our scanners aren't working down here. If we could perhaps bring a sample back to the ship..."

"Maybe you could start by figuring out why the damn scanners won't work. I told you - we can't get the samples to stay viable on the ship. There's something about the air down here." 

"Maybe you could go back to the ship and bring down more of the laboratory equipment?" the other worker suggested in a hesitant tone. 

Chadwick rolled his eyes and stood. "Didn't hire people just to have to lug around their equipment either,” he grumbled. He walked back over to the table, and picked up a small piece of rock that was sitting there. Chadwick tossed it in his hand, and then violently against the wall next to where Spock and Jim were hiding. There was a flash of purple light where it hit, and instead of falling to the floor, the wall seemed to absorb it back into itself.

Jim gave Spock a sharp, questioning look. He didn’t have time to investigate the potential implications of the strange reaction.

One of the men at the work table grimaced at the noise, and then rolled his eyes. He picked up an axe, and walked over to where Chadwick had thrown the piece of stone. He bent to examine where the rock had landed, and Spock and Jim both sank back against the wall. Jim pressed an arm against Spock's chest, even though Spock had moved to hide before him. It was too late, however. The man froze with the axe in his hand, staring at the place where Spock and Jim had disappeared into the shadows. Jim dropped his arm and took a slow step forward. He placed a finger to his lips. The man made no move, staring at him with a look of panic on his face. Jim slowly shook his head. Spock was startled by the faith that Jim put in his ability to convince this man to let them go without words. However, as he looked at Jim he thought he understood. There was a perfect combination of warning and pleading in Jim's bright eyes. The man seemed convinced. He lowered his axe. Jim nodded slowly in reaction. He motioned that he and Spock would leave, even starting to turn back towards the tunnel. The man let out a sigh, but before he could turn back to rejoin the group, Chadwick walked up behind him. 

"How long does it take you to get another sample—" he started to say. He broke out into a cruel smile at the sight of Spock and Jim crouched against the wall of the tunnel. 

"James Tiberius Kirk," Chadwick said in a cool, sharp tone. The smile on his face widened, but Spock noted that it did not extend to his eyes. He had witnessed many different types of human smiles over his years on the Enterprise. Even just with Jim himself there were many different styles and meanings behind the gesture. Chadwick's smile, though, was something he had not seen before. He was delighted - the smile was genuine - but there was nothing behind it except malice. Jim stiffened next to him, and stood fully. His back straightened, and Spock saw the muscles of his jaw tighten. His hand, which had moved to grasp the phaser the moment the other man had spotted them, tightened and twitched against the trigger. 

"Chadwick," Jim said in a flat tone that betrayed none of the tension that Jim was showing in the way in which he was holding his body. He did not smile in return. Spock's eyes darted across the contents of the room. He could not tell the exact model of their opponents’ weapons, but even with limited information, combining Jim's skills and his own, he estimated that they had a 78% chance of winning if a physical conflict began. The 22% chance of a loss came from their limited knowledge of the terrain, the fact that they were outnumbered, and the uncertain nature of Chadwick's weapons. Spock stepped closer to his captain. 

"This is my first officer, Mr. Spock," Jim said. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your... science team?" 

Chadwick laughed.

His eyes darted over Spock, lingering on his ears with an unpleasant smirk. He let out a derisive snort. "A Vulcan first officer, Jim? I guess it would feel good commanding one of them after the years they spent telling us what we could and couldn't do. They think they really know everything better, huh?"

He was talking to Jim, but his eyes didn't leave Spock. Jim stepped forward again, putting himself more in front of Spock so he was standing in between them.

"You know, I really don't think of it like that. I'm lucky to have such a competent officer at my side."

Chadwick laughed again. "What are you doing here, Jim?"

Jim looked around the room with a light and open expression on his face. "Oh, the same thing as you," he said simply, his eyes fixed on Chadwick's face, gauging his reaction. 

"You must really think I'm an idiot if you think I am going to fall for that kind of simple manipulation. Is Starfleet really so frightened of the truths that I speak that they sent their golden boy - the hero of the Federation - after me? "

Jim laughed as well. "Oh, no, not of the truths you've been speaking, if there are any. Don’t misinterpret me; there is no power behind the things you've been saying, but a desperate man is a dangerous thing. And you have been desperate, haven't you? Dismissed from all philosophical debates, the world has moved on and improved while you've been standing there clasping a call to violence, trying to make others feel the same anger that burns in you. And for what?"

"You've always been good with high-minded speeches about the nobility and grace of man haven't you, Jim? But at the end of the day, what good does it do you? You can't take humankind to a better spot at the table. You can't convince the Vulcans, or whatever, of our worth just by spouting some romantic nonsense, and then expect them to respect you." 

"When you view everything through one particular lens you are bound to miss the reality of what is happening in the world around you, Chadwick," Jim said. “Your scope is so narrow that you can’t even see the solar system for the stars.”

“I see the reality of what is happening on Earth. I see years of history, of humans being put second to every damn species we come across that can form a single word. I see brilliant men and women - __human__ men and women - pushed aside. I see our traditions and history, a proud history, being erased for the comfort of those to whom we owe nothing. How many concessions have you made aboard your human vessel to accommodate your first officer?”

“Those are old arguments, Chadwick. They are tired, and have been dismissed time and time again as humankind evolved and grew smarter, grew kinder. No one is listening to this drivel anymore. And you aren’t mentioning that you don’t mind dealing with aliens as long as they are paying you for your weapons. Interspecies conflict pays you quite well, doesn’t it? You’re using your bigotry to hide your true monetary goals. Give it up.”

“I speak the truths that most people are too scared to. I have enough support to make you and your precious Federation fear me. You would be surprised what is said when Starfleet isn’t in the room. I barely need to try to stir up hate in others. Only a few well chosen words and they fall in line. Willing to blow up their neighbors.”

“Is that so? So where are they now? Where is your army? All I see on this planet is you alone with two men who are too scared to look you in the eye.”

“It’s more than you have. What? You and one loyal alien - is this it? All the force Starfleet can muster? You won’t defeat me. You can’t defeat the truth.”

Spock noticed that, since Jim had mentioned them, his eyes had been fixed on the two men beside Chadwick. They weren’t looking at him, but Spock could tell that they were aware of Jim’s intent gaze. Spock tried to guess what Jim’s plan was, but one of the most astounding parts of Jim was his ability to consistently surprise Spock. 

Jim took a step towards the two men, ignoring Chadwick completely. “Is this what you want? To work for a man so full of hate? Is this how you dreamed of using your skills?”

The two men exchanged a loaded glance, and then, showing signs of anxiety, looked back towards Chadwick. 

“Come on,” Jim said softly, “we can help you.”

The two men looked back towards him, and Spock saw the muscles in their arms holding the weapons relax slightly.

“No,” Chadwick said loudly, startling Spock, whose eyes snapped back to the fuming man. He raised his weapon and aimed it first at Jim, and then towards Spock. And then all Spock felt was searing pain in his side. 

Jim grabbed Spock and dragged him back into the system of tunnels they came from. He ran, taking turns until he was sure he couldn’t hear footsteps behind them. Jim took a deep breath, and propped himself and Spock up against the wall. He closed his eyes, and counted to ten slowly before making a choice. He tried not to let the panic he felt creeping into the sides of his mind affect him. Spock was hurt. They did not have any medkits, or any way of contacting their ship. They had not found any leads on a way out of this cave system, and Chadwick was somewhere nearby. Right. Not ideal. His first priority needed to be Spock. He had to get back to the camp they had made before, but in a way where Chadwick wouldn't track them. He needed to get Spock someplace safe. He needed rest - a healing trance maybe? Jim wasn’t sure the type of weapon that Chadwick had used, but he could tell by the blood seeping through Spock’s uniform shirt, and the jagged edges of the wound, that it had not been a standard phaser. Modified perhaps, he thought, as he recalled the typical shape of it in Chadwick's hand. He tore at the sleeve of his shirt, and pressed the scrap against the wound. Spock winced.

“Can you hold this here?” Jim asked, and gently moved Spock’s hand over the fabric. 

“Yes,” Spock said. The waver in his voice made Jim’s stomach clench. It didn’t matter how many times he was forced to see Spock injured, it never became easier to see. 

“I believe I can walk without assistance as well,” Spock said, and before Jim could stop him, he stood up straight, and attempted to move forward. His legs collapsed from under him after the first step, and Jim was there so he could fall back against his side.

“Can you now?” he asked, softly. 

“It appears I am not currently the most accurate judge of my own abilities. My brain is not correctly interpreting the signals my body is sending,” Spock said as he leaned more heavily against Jim, and they began walking together. 

“It’s too bad Bones isn’t here to hear you say that,” Jim said. “He’d be singing hallelujah from the rafters.”

“Perhaps it is better the doctor is not with us, since that type of behavior would surely give away our position,” Spock said.

Jim chuckled slightly. He could tell Spock was trying to calm him - trying to use their usual exchanges as a way to reassure him that everything was okay. He wondered if Spock could hear how fast Jim’s heart was beating, or tell from the rate of his breath that he was worried. Perhaps, as with most things, his awareness had nothing to do with his Vulcan senses, and everything to do with the fact that he was __Spock__ , and Spock seemed to have the innate ability to know him more thoroughly than anyone else in the galaxy. 

“I also believe if he heard me say that, he would begin to use it against me at every possible moment,” Spock said after a moment’s consideration.

Jim swallowed, and tried not to think about how much he wished Bones was here with him now. Jim was a poor substitute for a doctor. “It’ll be our secret,” Jim said, and smiled at Spock. He squeezed his arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way, and said, “Now, stop wasting your energy.” 

Jim led them through the tunnels, taking as many detours as he dared in case Chadwick was trying to follow them, and they arrived back at the camp they had set up earlier. Spock was getting weaker, and he had bled through the fragment of Jim’s shirt. Jim carried him for the last few meters, despite Spock’s protests. 

Jim carefully lay Spock down so he was half-sitting, leaning against a pillar of stone that was glowing soft purple in the middle of the room. He tugged off his uniform shirt, so he was just wearing his black undershirt, and knelt beside Spock. “Let me look at it.”

Spock’s hand relaxed it’s grip on the cloth pressed against his wound, and fell to his side. Jim was momentarily distracted by Spock’s hand covered in dark, green blood, and laying prone by his side. 

Spock opened his eyes to look at Jim. “The injury looks more severe than it is.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, mister,” Jim said as he peeled back the cloth of Spock’s shirts. The wound was inflamed, and still leaking dark, green blood at a steady rate. Jim swallowed. If he asked, Spock would probably be able to tell him the volume of blood he had lost, but he would rather not know. He tore off more cloth from his uniform shirt, and folded it over the wound. 

“I’m just going to get water,” he said, and Spock nodded.

When Jim returned a few moments later, Spock’s eyes were fluttering open and shut. He gently wrung water from the cloth over the wound, washing blood and debris away from it. He tried not to focus on how quickly fresh blood appeared to take its place. He folded more cloth over the wound, and then tied the arms of his shirt tightly around Spock’s torso, feeling him wince at the pressure. “Sorry,” he muttered.

It wasn’t enough, but it was the best Jim could do at the moment. Spock’s breathing was steady, and his eyes were shut. Jim rubbed his hands together, and tried to think of the best way out of this. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Spock as he thought.

He had made progress with Chadwick's men. He could tell they weren’t happy - whatever reasons they had for joining his team were starting to not be enough to endure his cruel treatment and lack of reasonable thought. If he could find a way to isolate them, he could reach out to them again. They had to know a way in and out of the caverns, and Chadwick was clearly not able to accomplish whatever his goals were without assistance. A rockfall down the center of the room? But then there was no way to know whether they would be trapped on the side with the exit. Plus, if his and Spock’s disastrous entrance into the cave system was anything to go by, it would be hard to control the way in which any collapse happened. They could lure them out somehow? It would be helpful to know what exactly they were looking for down here, if they were going to be able to accomplish that. Jim rubbed his hands together. He wished Spock were awake. He always thought better when he could bounce ideas off the Vulcan. He had a way of bringing out his more creative side, somehow. He wished they were back on the Enterprise, with Bones’ steadying grumbling and capable hands. 

Jim's train of thought was almost lost to cursing the limitations of transporters when Spock began shivering. Jim immediately moved to his side. He pressed a hand to Spock’s chest, above his injury. “Spock!”

The Vulcan opened his eyes, but couldn’t quite focus on Jim’s face. “I am having a difficult time,” he paused, “regulating my body temperature.”

“Shit,” Jim said, and gently pulled Spock forward so Jim could fit behind him. He eased Spock against his chest and tried to wrap as much of his body around the Vulcan as he could. It took a few panic-filled minutes, but Spock’s shudders stopped, and Jim felt the muscles in his back loosen. He soon fell back asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing that Spock became aware of when he regained consciousness was the sharp sting of pain in his abdomen. The second thing he noticed was an entirely different sensation: the soft weight of limbs wrapped around him, fingers gently smoothing the sleeve of his shirt, his own body rising and falling with another’s breath. The physical sensations unfurled a warm curl of something pleasant and content deep in his chest. He let the feeling emanate through him, enveloping him for a moment as he leaned back against the soft chest, and tucked himself further under the gentle limbs. 

“Spock?” Jim’s voice echoed around him and Spock stiffened, embarrassment slipping through his mind. Jim deftly slid out from behind him to assess his status. Spock found himself immediately missing the contact. 

“The rest has helped, Jim,” Spock said at the sharp concern present on Jim’s face. It had. The pain was no longer overwhelming, and he was no longer losing blood at a rapid rate. However, he could tell the wound was not healing at a rate that would allow him to be of much assistance in finding an escape from the caverns, or discovering what Chadwick was doing here. 

Jim narrowed his eyes. 

“What is the status of our mission?” Spock asked. 

“Not much different than before,” Jim said, and rubbed his hands together. “Chadwick hasn’t been able to follow up. I wanted to make sure you were alright before I did anything else.”

Spock attempted to stand, but faltered. Pain radiated from his abdomen. Spock noted that he was still having trouble focusing his eyes or his thoughts. There was no longer any doubt that he would not be helpful in his current condition. 

Jim had appeared instantly at his side when he attempted to stand, and carefully guided him back to the floor. He was staring at Spock’s wound with a frown.

“Spock—”

“I’m fine, Jim,” Spock said, careful to keep his voice even and steady. “I was hoping to avoid entering a healing trance. The conditions are not ideal, but I think it’s necessary.”

“Okay,” Jim smiled, tight and close-lipped. Spock could see the worry behind his eyes.

“I will be able to wake myself from it in a few hours,” Spock reassured him.

“Good,” Jim said. His hand was still on Spock’s shoulder, and Spock found himself leaning into its heat - its comfort. “I need you around, and I wasn’t too keen on slapping you.”

“Nor I.” 

Spock maneuvered himself so he was laying on the ground. It was cold, but he still closed his eyes. He counted his breaths, and attempted to draw his mind into order to enter the trance. It would only need to be a light one, just enough for the skin to heal over the wound. The ground was cold. The rocks felt sharp. The pain in his side ached in a way that pressed into his consciousness. This wouldn’t do. Spock dismissed the thought that if he were more Vulcan he would not have this problem. He shifted to try to find a position where there were no rocks in his spine.

“You okay?” Jim asked from somewhere above him.

“I find I am struggling to enter the trance,” Spock admitted, opening his eyes to look at Jim’s concerned face. 

“How can I help?” Jim asked. His hand returned to Spock’s shoulder, and Spock thought of resting against Jim earlier. The warm strength of him surrounding him. The softness of his body. The clear sureness that Jim was there with him - how easy it had been to let his consciousness fall into sleep, knowing that he would be there when he awoke. 

“I found it was easier to reach a relaxed state when you were behind me,” Spock said before he could rethink it.

Jim’s eyes widened for a moment, and Spock could not be certain, but he thought he saw a flush of red on his cheeks. “Okay, of course; come here.”

Spock noticed his body’s immediate response as Jim slid behind him, and he sunk into his chest. His muscles released 13% more of their tension.

“Better?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Spock agreed. He attempted to dismiss the small ache of guilt that entered his mind, as well as the idea that he enjoyed the feeling of Jim’s arms around him for reasons entirely separate from the warmth it provided. 

Jim’s hands trailed down Spock’s arms, and resumed tracing small circles on his wrists. Spock wondered if Jim knew what he was doing - if it was another one of his instincts, or if the motion was deliberate. 

“You know, when I was a child and couldn’t sleep, my mother used to tell me stories,” Jim said.

“I am not trying to sleep,” Spock said.

“Same principle could apply. Maybe you need a distraction so your mind can be free to enter the trance.”

Spock opened his mouth to say that this was in fact the opposite of how deliberate Vulcan stages of meditation functioned, but he paused. It wouldn’t do harm, he decided, not focusing on the reasons for his decision, and instead asking, “You said earlier that this environment would not be the one you would choose to be stuck in. What would you choose?”

“I think I would want constant thunderstorms - or somewhere where the weather cycles between the hours before a really big storm and thunderstorms…”

“That is… surprising,” Spock said.

Jim’s laugh blew hot breath against Spock’s neck. “I love thunderstorms. They remind me of being a kid - a real kid - not like it was after Tarsus. Me and Sam would sit on the porch on summer evenings. Watch the storms roll in across the fields. It felt like magic. I think it’s the energy in the air. The time right before it starts.”

Spock gave him an appraising look. “Thunderstorms are not magic. They occur when a current of warm, moist air rises up and meets a current of cold, dry air.” 

“Magic is only science that we do not yet understand,” Jim said. His fingers briefly slipped against the skin of Spock’s wrist. Spock’s shields had slipped enough that he felt a surge of warm affection that was not totally his own. Jim quickly moved his hand back and continued, "I remember my second grade science just as well as the next man, Spock. It feels like a promise of something more. Of something happening. Like there is a rising movement. Like that moment in your head before you decide to do something reckless.” He glanced at Spock. "That may not be something that you relate to," he added with a smile. 

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps not. But I have witnessed you make many reckless decisions, and I can appreciate the metaphor." 

Jim chuckled, and it reverberated through Spock’s chest. He knew that Jim had witnessed him make several reckless decisions of his own, but he appreciated that he did not mention that now. Instead he continued, "That rising energy that leads to some inevitability. That sense that things are happening - things are moving. There is about to be some big change, and everything feels primed and on edge.” He laughed softly again. "Here I am, waxing on like some old poet.”

“I believe it makes sense, Jim," Spock said. He paused for a moment. The combination of the pain and comfort made his body feel warm and heavy. He tried to concentrate his mind, but words fell out of him before he could think better of it. "I always thought you were like the sun," Spock said quietly with no explanation. "Maybe you are more like a storm." 

Jim didn’t respond right away. Spock felt his breath stutter momentarily. He used the silence to reach for the first stage of the healing trance. 

Faintly, along the edges of his mind, he was aware of Jim talking again. "Well,” he said, "I've blathered on for long enough. If you could, Spock, design a world, have it shaped to your whim, what would it be?”

Spock did not have the energy to respond. He hoped Jim would understand. He reached in his mind for the next level of meditation, concentrating on the skin around his wound, and fell peacefully into the trance.

Jim smiled at the crown of Spock’s head. He knew he should feel guilty for enjoying this moment so much. Spock in his arms. Spock safe, and trusting him with something so intimate. He closed his eyes, granting himself momentary forgiveness for the intensity of his own feelings. 

After a while, his own eyes began to flutter shut, and he felt sleep creeping into his consciousness. He hadn’t realized how tired he was, but now that the immediate threat was gone, and his adrenaline decreased, his whole body felt heavy and warm. He tried to fight it - with Spock in his trance, he couldn’t depend on his Vulcan senses to wake them if there was a disturbance. Jim was a light sleeper himself, but they couldn’t afford any delays in reaction, not with Spock still injured. 

He pinched the bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, the jolt of pain waking him. It was then he noticed something strange. The purple glow behind the cave walls and floor was intensifying, as if it were getting closer to the surface. Jim gripped Spock instinctively, his eyes fixed on the rising light. It strengthened until it was a glowing haze emerging from the rock floor, and stretching towards Spock and Jim.

“Spock,” Jim hissed, shaking the Vulcan slightly. Spock did not respond. 

The glowing light extended closer to them, started to wrap around Spock’s ankle, and travel up his leg. Jim was frozen. Somehow he had a sense that this force, whatever it was, did not mean them harm. It continued until it was covering the scraps of fabric serving as bandages around Spock’s wound. 

Jim tried to brush it aside, but when his hand met the cloud it passed into it. A slight electric buzz emitted from it and tickled his skin, but when his hand entered, he was hit by a wave of— calm. Jim tried to tense, tried to fight the wave of feeling that spread through him - relaxed his muscles and slowed his thoughts - but it was no use. The sensation was strong, and as the glow passed by his hand, it seemed to linger where Jim’s hand was pressed against Spock’s abdomen. 

“Spock,” Jim said again, louder this time. 

The glow seemed to sink into Spock, right along the edges of his wound. His skin lit up, and Jim could see, with a jolt in his stomach, the skin starting to stitch back together until all that was left of the wound was a thin line illuminated against the stretch of taut, flat skin of Spock’s side. Jim ran his finger along it before he could think. He needed to make sure, to verify with his touch, that this was real. The heat of Spock’s bare skin underneath his fingers felt intoxicating, and Jim couldn’t help but let his fingers linger on the miraculously-healed flesh. 

Jim eventually fell into a shallow sleep. His fingers resting on the glowing scar felt reassuring and safe.

He wasn’t sure at first what woke him. There was a shift in the air - a breeze? Jim looked up; if there was wind that could mean that there was an entrance closer than they had thought. He couldn’t see where it was coming from, but it was undeniable, a weak breeze that was gaining strength. It blew through his hair, and stirred something loose in him. The air felt charged. He gripped Spock’s shoulders again, and gently shook him. He knew Spock had said that he wouldn’t need pain to be woken from the trance, but Jim was concerned at his lack of response. 

There was a deep rumble that came from the ceiling. Jim gripped his phaser, and gently moved out from behind Spock. He placed the remnants of his uniform shirt underneath the Vulcan’s head, and stood, trying to identify where the wind was coming from. It was strong now, with a strange warmth to it. The smell in the cave had changed. It smelled earthy, and heavy with humidity. Jim looked upwards at the ceiling of the cave, squinting his eyes, and trying to make his vision expand further in the dark. He couldn’t be sure, but there was movement towards the top. A subtle radiance began to spread, and Jim could make out the soft swell of clouds - big, full clouds, glowing purple, just like the - what, energy? - that had healed Spock. It was unmistakable now.

Jim let out a disbelieving huff. It was a storm. A thunderstorm. In the middle of a cave. Underground. There was a flash of bright-purple light that illuminated the walls around him. A moment later, a loud clap of thunder that Jim felt vibrate through his chest. He couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted Spock to be awake for this, wanted to see the curiosity light up his eyes. Jim loved to see the flash of disbelief and shock in Spock’s eyes. He loved, even more, watching it melt away into curiosity and interest; loved the progression of subtle movements and changes on his face as he worked something out, and this would be a beautiful puzzle to watch him solve. As Jim moved closer back to Spock’s prone form, something hit him softly on the top of his head. Jim lifted his face up, only to be hit by a cascade of droplets— rain? An imitation of rain? The drops felt _wet_ as they hit Jim’s upturned face, the wind blowing them so they landed with force. But after they touched his skin there was no lingering sensation of liquid. Jim reached up, and drew a hand over his face - it was dry. With each drop against his bare skin, something in his chest stirred - a beautiful surge of anticipation. It was exactly the feeling he had described to Spock, he realized, as he was falling into his trance. 

He laughed in wonder again, turning his face to the composed sky, and giving himself a moment to be lost in that moment of awe, rain splattering along his face and neck.

The first thing Spock became aware of as he regained consciousness was the lack of warmth behind him. His trance had been shallow enough that he had moments of awareness that were close to consciousness, and each time he had felt the heat and comfort of Jim behind him, so now the lack of it felt stark by comparison. His whole mind felt clouded by the memory of Jim’s arms around him, the solid heat and soft sensation of Jim running his hands along his arms. Spock had never drawn this much comfort from a physical touch before, but Jim pressed close to him had felt soothing.

The second thing he became aware of was the feeling of rain hitting the bare skin of his face and neck. At that he sat up. Were they out of the caves? He opened his eyes to see the same cavern walls, except something was different. The unique purple glow underneath the stone had appeared to move and twist to form - clouds, rain, a storm? Spock quickly scanned the room, and found Jim standing in the center with his eyes shut, and his face raised towards the oncoming torrents. The smile on his face was so wide and wild that it lit something within Spock. He looked radiant, the glowing particles bouncing off of his skin, and then the confusing way in which Jim appeared to exude sunlight from within, as illogical as it seemed. 

Spock walked to Jim’s side. Through the noise of the rain and the sounds of thunder, he did not hear him approach. Spock placed a hand gently on his arm to alert him of his presence. 

Jim turned towards him, the radiance of his smile didn’t diminish as he opened his eyes and looked into Spock’s face; in fact, it seemed to grow brighter, and more intense. It made Spock slightly dizzy. He found he did not want to remove his hand from Jim’s arm, even though its goal had been accomplished. 

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

Spock had not even taken time to consider his physical state, he had been so distracted by the sight of Jim. The pain in his abdomen was completely gone. The makeshift bandages had been removed. Spock looked down, and pulled up his shirt to reveal nothing left of the injury except a thin, bright purple scar. Spock’s eyes narrowed as he looked at it. It was not the usual result from a healing trance, especially not one in less-than-ideal circumstances, and the uncharacteristic color of the tissue unnerved him.

“I feel fine. There are no lingering effects from the injury,” Spock said. 

“Good, good,” Jim said. “Now that that’s done, help me figure out what the hell is going on here.” He gestured to the sky. 

Spock looked up, trying to assess what was happening, and what the storm was. 

“It’s alive,” Jim said, “this color in the rocks, the lights they produce. That has to be it. Would that account for the readings you were getting on the surface?”

Spock considered it. It made sense. If the lifeform’s basis was not carbon, the readings could have been confused. Accounting for their depth under the surface, as well as their changeable nature, it made sense that his tricorder would not be able to detect them fully. And then there were the telepathic indications, paired with the uneasy sensation he identified in his mind. 

He paused in his analysis as he was hit with a series of memories: Jim wrapping him in his arms, and describing the joy he received from observing thunderstorms as a child; in his trance, a vague awareness of Jim around him, of the startling comfort and pleasure of being safe in his arms, and a strong desire and pull to be able to give something in return. Hazy visions that came from his mind, only half in meditation and half in dream - lightning, a rising change in atmosphere, heavy torrents of rain. The exact things he had woken up to. 

It made sense - the telepathic ability of these organisms. 

“Spock, care to share what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” Jim interrupted his thoughts, but the look on his face was fond and light. He gently nudged him with his shoulder. 

“I believe... I caused the storm,” Spock began.

“You did?”

“Not intentionally. It is possible that when I entered my healing trance I was somehow able to open a telepathic link with these lifeforms. My mind would have been more open at that moment. It is possible that the telepathic energy required to enter into the trance is similar to the energy that they use to communicate. I may have accidentally formed a link with them that allowed them to access my thoughts. My unconscious thoughts may have been focused on the conversation we were having,” Spock paused. He felt a rush of blood to his cheeks, although he could not identify the source of any embarrassment. 

Jim was staring at him.

“This is just loose theory. I do not have enough facts to back up the hypothesis. However, it does appear more likely than a spontaneous subterranean storm.”

Jim laughed. “Indeed. I think we’ll go with this one for now. They are able to change shape— change form. How? Is this one life form?” 

Spock considered the question. He held his palm up to catch some of the rain, and dragged his finger through it, observing the particles shift and sparkle. Now that he was aware of it, he could identify the telepathic energy they emitted against his skin. 

“I do not like making assumptions based on limited data...”

“But if you were to—” 

“I would say that they are multiple entities that are telepathically linked, and create a singular social unit as a result.”

“And when you entered the trance you became a part of their social unit?” 

“That is a simplification,” Spock said, “but essentially accurate. They had access to my thoughts and desires, and changed their form as a result of that.”

“Incredible,” Jim breathed. His wide bright eyes scanned the cavern. Spock could tell by the look in his eyes that he was on the verge of an idea.

“Although, it is possible I formed a link before. I felt a sensation in my mind right before the collapse. I did not mention it before because I was not certain if it was significant. However, now it seems it was. Jim, did you notice that the cave formation was precisely as I guessed it would be? The type of caves, this cavern, the consistency of the soil and rock?”

Jim raised his eyebrows. “I guess I just assumed you were that good.”

“I am _good_ , but even making hypotheses based on the available facts and my knowledge of ecological trends across planets, it is highly unlikely that I would be 100% correct. Especially given the limited time and information I had to work with.”

“Are you saying that this all was created from your mind?”

“Not exactly. It is likely that much of the system already existed - it's just the surface details that they adjusted to meet my expectations or assumptions.”

“Amazing,” Jim said. “Spock, do you think you could speak with them?”

Spock considered it. “I wouldn’t be communicating verbally, but I believe it would be possible for me to form a more deliberate connection.” 

Jim stepped closer to him. “Would you?” His voice was soft in tone, and Spock was very aware that this was not an order. A request that had more to do with his curiosity and amazement in this moment than anything to do with their mission. 

Spock was curious himself, and could see the benefits for both scientific discovery as well as their current mission. More than that, though, he wanted to give Jim what he wanted.

“Yes,” he answered, and Jim smiled widely at him in response.

Spock settled down on the floor of the cavern, and took a deep breath. He flexed his fingers, and drew them through the glowing debris on the floor, before centering his thoughts on initiating the meld. 

He was not sure how effective it would be since the organisms were not humanoid, and did not have meld points. However, he was quickly hit with a flock of sensations and thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Jim couldn't take his eyes off Spock as he knelt on the ground and pressed his hands into the rise of glowing particles. He was lit purple from the glow of the lifeforms, and his features were stark. He looked stunning and peaceful, and Jim felt a hint of yearning to be the one that Spock was melding with. Jim shook the silly thought from his head. They needed Spock to do this so they could better understand the extent of what they were dealing with. It was not an emotional connection he was making here. But still - to have access to the beauty that was Spock’s mind. Jim shivered, and almost didn’t notice the change in the world around him. The storm had stopped. 

Spock looked serene, his fingers stretched and connecting with the ground where a soft light emanated from each place he made contact, his face relaxed and lit by the glow. Jim settled down in front of him and waited.

Spock shook his head, and then spoke, "Yes, I am with them. They are one— individuals connected as a whole. There are millions of separate creatures, but they share one consciousness. The mind is compelling— changeable, and linked to their physical form."

"They are able to change their physical form?"

"Yes," Spock said, and his brows came together in concentration. 

A light appeared under the surface of the dirt in front of Jim, and grew stronger as a flower emerged from the dust. 

Jim let out a disbelieving laugh. He ran the tips of his fingers over the spiraling petals. It looked remarkably real - it was real Jim supposed. The only indication that it wasn't was the unearthly purple light that speckled its edges. "Amazing. How do they know what a chrysanthemum looks like?" Jim asked, and looked back at Spock who had opened his eyes again.

"That is from my mind," Spock said. "They are extremely curious."

Another flower emerged from the ground in front of Jim. "Incredible," he said softly. "What is the limit of this ability? Can they create atmospheres? Worlds? Is this whole cave made up of these creatures?"

Spock paused with a distant look in his eyes, considering the question.

The walls around them began to shift, and Jim instinctively put his hands on the ground, leaning towards Spock to steady himself. The ground underneath them stayed steady and firm, though, and Jim stared as the room widened and the ceiling faded to be replaced by an expanse of night sky - deep and dark, and filled with purple stars. 

"Most of the cave system exists as part of the natural formation on the planet. However, certain areas and tunnels seem to have been created by the organisms," Spock said. "As for the limit of their ability I cannot tell. I haven't appeared to reach it yet. Further testing may require a deeper meld."

"This isn't an order—" Jim started to say.

"I will," Spock said, before he could make the request. "I'm quite curious myself." He closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.

"Show me something," Jim said.

"What would you like to see?" Spock asked.

"When I was on Vulcan," Jim paused, trying to dismiss memories of the intense heat of Spock's gaze, and the feeling of his body pressed between the Vulcan and the hot desert sand. He saw Spock tense and regretted starting his sentence that way, but continued, "I didn't have the chance to see anything, the cities, your favorite places, your home. Show me."

Spock took another deep breath, and the scenery started to shift again. Sharp cliffs rose around them; a warm breeze blew in between spindly trees, rattling their dry leaves. 

Spock dragged his fingers over the ground, and red sand-like crystals showered over his skin, falling smoothly back down. "They do not appear to be able to imitate the physical properties of objects. The rain was not wet, and this sand is not hot. However, the resemblance is striking."

"Where are we?" Jim asked

"The Llangon Mountains. When I was a child, I often came here," Spock said. "I enjoyed the solitude and the change in atmosphere. You may have inferred that my father and I were often in conflict when I was younger. This was where I would go. I found the change in environment helped me to better focus my mind. And... it was a foolish notion, but being closer to the sky comforted me."

"It's beautiful, Spock," Jim said, staring out at the stretch of burnt desert before him, surrounding the tall spires and colorful roofs of a distant city. The breeze caught the ends of Spock's hair, and the light was startling in comparison to the damp darkness of the caves. 

Jim could tell that Spock was showing him something special— something personal to him. It was clear in the way he was looking at Jim, calculating and open, a smile in his eyes, and at the corner of his lips. There was a vulnerability there that Jim felt blessed to be allowed to witness. He grasped Spock's shoulder. "Thank you," he said, hoping the sincerity in his eyes was evident. 

Spock shifted so he was facing towards Jim, who slowly dropped his hand from his shoulder. "Show me your home," Jim said as his fingers brushed by Spock's bare wrist. 

Spock closed his eyes, and the sharp mountain rocks faded around them and gave way to a flat, green floor, and sharp edges. Jim turned and looked around them, expecting to see the childhood home that Spock had talked about. Instead, the clear sharp edges of the Enterprise were coming together before his eyes. His own quarters. A chessboard grew beside him and Spock. The particles at his feet were lighting up and streaming up his own body. He turned back to Spock, questioning, but the Vulcan's eyes were still shut. The particles at his feet were lighting up and streaming up his own body, traveling up his legs, and humming against the skin of his arms. 

Spock’s eyes were still shut. His brow furrowed gently, the light surrounding Jim reflecting against his pale skin. “Spock,” Jim said, his voice an urgent whisper.

Spock's eyes fluttered open, and then widened dramatically at the sight before him. His eyebrows rose, and a green blush was barely visible along his cheekbones. His eyes adjusted so that he was looking at a point to the left of, and beyond, Jim's face. Jim knew this trick. He was not going to let Spock play this now, not when the implications of this were... what exactly? Jim raised his arm, and watched the pulsing light that wove along him. 

"Spock," Jim whispered more insistently, moving so that he was in the Vulcan's line of sight again. "When I said to show me your home..."

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and tilted his head. He took a moment to respond. "I believe that the meld went deeper than I intended. It appears that I no longer can control what shape the organisms take."

"So this..." Jim gestured to their new surroundings, and then paused before gesturing to himself. The beings around him seemed to be clustered the most tightly around his head. Jim could tell by the intensity of the glow in his peripheral vision. 

"I do not allow such blatant human emotionalism in my mind," Spock said. His face was still stiff, and all Jim wanted to do was to reach out to him.

Instead he smiled softly. "I would never think that you did, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

"However, perhaps these are just the facts. The beings interpreted the facts and..." he faltered. "When I consider what home is..." 

"Yes?" Jim bit back another smile, sensing this was a sensitive moment.

"It is the Enterprise. It’s... you." Spock's posture tensed even more, and Jim saw the muscles of his jaw tighten.

Jim felt his heart racing. This isn't a love declaration, he said to himself. Spock's words from the observation deck were still clear in his head. You are happy with friendship, he reminded himself sternly. He looked back to Spock, who was no longer meeting his gaze.

He stepped closer to Spock, and touched his arm. "Me too. The Enterprise, space, you. That’s where I feel at home. That’s where I..." He wasn't sure how to put the enormity of what Spock was to him into words. He smiled again, and dropped his hand. 

"They're poets aren't they, these creatures?"

Spock raised his eyebrows. "They do have a way of visually expressing complex concepts."

"I like them," Jim said decisively. "Plus they saved your life. They healed you. I will always be grateful for that." Jim's gaze traveled down Spock's body to where he had been wounded. He had removed the bandage, and a patch of pale skin was revealed beneath the singed fabric. Jim stepped closer, and reached out towards Spock's torso. He paused, but Spock made no movement away from him, or his outstretched hand. 

Jim lifted the fabric so he could see the scar. It still glowed faintly— a thin line across pale skin. He trailed his finger along the warm glowing flesh; it was if he didn't quite trust that it was real. He heard Spock gasp, but before he could move his hand away, he saw an intense glow trailing behind his touch on Spock, like flames or the trail of a comet. The light pulsed gently, as though in time with a heartbeat. 

Jim's mouth suddenly felt dry. He dared himself to look back up at Spock, while his finger lingered on the smooth skin beneath it.

"On the observation deck," Jim began cautiously, "when you said you had no desire to change the nature of our friendship. What did you mean?"

Spock was leaning into his touch now, looking down at him with intense dark eyes. "You had made your thoughts on the matter clear," Spock said in a soft, measured voice. 

"I think - I hope - there was a misunderstanding..." 

"I—" Spock looked at him, confusion clear in his eyes. He looked away. Jim felt a pressure behind him as the being that had been circling him tightened, and pulled him so he was almost flush against Spock.

"I don't want to mess this up, Spock. I need to hear you say it," Jim said.

He was painfully aware of the heat of Spock's body so close to his own, their chests almost pressed together with each inhale. 

Jim had spent so many hours convincing himself that this couldn't happen, and convincing himself that he was alright with that - that he didn't ache with yearning every time he was in his first officer's presence. That the swell of admiration and awe that overtook him when Spock came up with a clever solution to a problem they were facing was platonic, even professional. That the intense pull he felt to put his flesh against Spock's, hand against hand, or lips against lips, wasn't anything more than the flighty desire of an overly-romantic fool who fell into crushes as effortlessly as other people fell into a black hole. But he couldn't lie to himself now. Not when he was surrounded by evidence of Spock's regard for him. Not when there was a dark and hungry look in his eyes that he felt burning into every piece of him. Not when Spock's breathing was faster, shallower than normal, and his lips were parted and wet, and trying to speak.

Spock raised his hand, and let the backs of his fingers trail along the side of Jim's face. He shivered. The touch was hot and loaded, and intimate in a way that made him ache with desire.

The touch itself was a declaration, and Jim stared back at Spock, aware this was not easy for him. "I should clarify first," he said, his voice soft and rough. "I would accept anything you offer me, gratefully. With open arms. That doesn't stop a man from... wanting more. And if you give it willingly, I want anything else you would offer. A friend, a touch, a kiss, a lifetime together. Any or all of it, and I would be the luckiest, richest man in the quadrant."

The light around Jim grew brighter, a mass of constellations surrounding the pair of them. Spock took a deep breath. "Jim, my desire for you is the strongest constant in my life. I used to fear it."

Jim leaned closer. "And now?"

"I learned to accept it," Spock said, "without the expectation that you could ever return my feelings."

Jim chuckled fondly. "And how could I not?"

Spock opened his mouth to answer.

"A rhetorical question," Jim said softly. "What happens next, Spock?"

Spock stepped closer to him. His eyes were fixed on Jim, intent and warm. Jim watched his eyes flicker down to his lips as Jim parted them to speak. The hungry look on Spock’s face drove any thought from his mind except his need for Spock, for him to be closer, damn it. He leaned forward. The fact that he had inspired that look in Spock’s eyes sent hot tremors of arousal through his body. He wrapped his hands around Spock’s biceps, appreciating the strength of him beneath the fabric of his undershirt— to be able to touch him so freely, not to hold back while every molecule inside him reached out for the Vulcan, felt like a revelation. 

Spock lifted his hand to Jim’s face, and gently followed the lines of his cheekbone down to his jaw. The simple touch was overwhelming, and Jim let out a shaking sigh as Spock’s long fingers curled around his chin, and brought him closer so their foreheads were touching. His touch left lingering heat and electricity. The light surrounding him reflected on Spock’s skin. He felt the unsteady breath that Spock took against his chest, could feel the beat of his heart against his abdomen. Jim slid his hand down Spock’s arm; his fingers brushed against Spock’s free hand, whose breath hitched at the touch. Jim intertwined their fingers, and felt Spock’s sigh against his cheek. He had never realized how erotic such little contact could be; his thumb sliding across Spock’s felt almost painfully sensual. 

“What now?” he repeated in a whisper. He was prepared to follow Spock’s lead on this, but, god, he felt like his whole body was on fire with his desire. 

Spock didn’t respond, but tilted Jim’s chin up and covered his mouth with his. The first kiss was gentle, their lips barely parted, but it was still the most intense kiss Jim had ever experienced. Jim pulled back slightly to look at Spock’s face, concerned, but there was none of the hesitancy or pain he had seen before evident in his features. Instead there was a bright light in his eyes, a focus, and a smile around his eyes. Jim tightened his grip on Spock’s arm, and leaned against him, lifting his face towards Spock to kiss him again. The second touch seemed to unlock something in both of them. Spock moved his hand to Jim’s neck and pulled him close. Jim opened his mouth to move his tongue against Spock’s, his mouth hot and inviting. Jim groaned, and the noise made Spock grip him tighter, his hands torn between pulling him closer, and raising Jim’s shirt so he could explore the bare skin of his back and chest.

Jim was already painfully hard, and he felt the heat and hardness of Spock’s erection against his leg. He was practically trembling with want. This wasn’t how he had wanted this to go, their first time together. And he had imagined it, too many times. He had wanted it to be slow, wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of Spock, every noise he made. But his need for him was too great - he needed more of Spock’s skin, of his mouth, god, of the friction of his body against his crotch. As he pulled back, breathing hard, and looked at Spock, he saw the desperation reflected in his eyes, felt the strength of Spock’s grip on him— he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Spock pressed his hips against Jim’s, and his cock throbbed; Jim collapsed across Spock’s chest, his chin resting on his shoulder, pressed as tight against him as he could be. And, fuck, Spock let out a low noise that was close to a growl.

“James,” Spock said low in his ear. His voice was rough and needy, and it made Jim ache. Spock licked along the edge of his ear right as he rubbed his erection against Jim’s. 

It was almost too much. Jim stumbled slightly as his knees gave way. Spock took that moment to walk him back against the wall of the cavern, kissing him desperately along the way, almost lifting Jim with his grasp on his arms. Jim grew impossibly harder with the reminder of Spock’s strength. His back hit the rock wall of the cavern, and he tugged at Spock’s shirt, desperate to see more of him, for more skin to map. He discarded his own shirt too. The feeling of his bare chest against Spock’s overwhelmed him, his hands shaking as he grasped at the seam of Spock’s pants, and pressed wet kisses wherever he could over Spock’s neck and shoulders. Spock pressed his palm against Jim’s cock, and even with his pants between them it jolted Jim. He slid back along the wall to the floor, pulling Spock down on top of him. 

“God, Spock,” he said as the Vulcan looked down at him, his eyes dark and lips swollen. Jim tugged at his pants until Spock’s hard cock was visible, flushed and leaking. Jim bit his lip, and groaned at the sight of it. “Is this okay?” he asked as he reached for it. Spock nodded, and Jim turned them both so they were laying side by side. Jim forced himself to take a slow, deep breath, controlling his own need for release as he admired Spock. He trailed his fingers up his thigh, appreciating the shuddering breath that made Spock’s chest rise. His face was flushed a deep green, and his hair was askew from Jim’s hands. He saw the muscles in Spock’s stomach tighten as his fingers neared his cock. 

He wanted to look at Spock’s face as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, but as he made contact Spock pulled him tighter, and took Jim’s erection in his hand - and then the calm was over. Jim’s rhythm was fast and desperate. The hard, hot weight of Spock in his hand, Spock’s lips and teeth on his neck, the noises Spock was making low and desperate— it was too much. The pleasure coursed through him, burned in his thighs, and focused his whole world to this moment. Jim didn’t even try to stop his orgasm as it came fast and hard. He felt Spock spill himself into his hand shortly after, and Jim pressed his head against Spock’s chest, still heaving with his breaths. 

“Oh, god, Spock,” he said softly. 

Spock brought his clean hand up to cradle Jim’s head against his chest. “Indeed,” he said. Jim laughed, and smiled back up at him. He was sure every ounce of the staggering love that was filling him was evident in his face, but for once he didn’t have to try to contain it. 

Jim’s hand was stroking along his back. The sensation of the casual and gentle touch inspired a new wave of emotions. Spock closed his eyes, and gave himself a moment to identify and categorize them so he could place them to the side. It wasn’t prudent to be influenced by emotions at this time. They were still in danger. It wasn’t prudent to allow themselves to give into their base desires in this moment either, but looking at Jim’s soft glowing smile, Spock could not bring himself to regret the choice. 

He took a breath and focused on the sensations in his mind. Happiness. Relief. Comfort. He categorized and released each one with care, before turning over and sitting to regard his captain. 

Jim looked radiant and open, smiling and lit by the soft purple glow of the cave around them. Spock had to clench his jaw against another wave of desire and arousal at the sight of him. 

"Captain," Spock said. 

Jim was clearly trying to suppress the smile on his face, and his amusement at Spock's switch back to formality. 

"I have been thinking about the nature of these organisms, and what Chadwick's interest in them might be," Spock said. 

Jim raised his eyebrows in return. "That's what you've been thinking about? I must not have done my job right." As he spoke he looked up and down Spock's nude form in a way that made the blood in Spock's cheeks rise to the surface. 

"On the contrary, I find that the release has helped me to focus my mind," Spock said.

Jim laughed. "I'll keep that in mind," he said as he pulled his pants back over his hips and fastened them. "Alright, Mr. Spock, what have you concluded?"

"The labile nature of the lifeforms offers many intriguing possibilities for scientific and technological advancement. However, given what we have seen of Chadwick, I believe he has a more specific purpose in mind."

"He doesn't seem to be the type for scientific advancement," Jim agreed. He ran his hands through his hair. "Weapons? Some kind of weapon that could be disguised until it’s detonated?"

"Perhaps," Spock said. 

"Or a cloaking device. If the creatures were able to become the space surrounding them - or even imitate the look of another type of ship. That could allow him access into areas he never would have been able to go before. Could allow him to stir up more conflict - create more customers. Either way, it's too dangerous to allow him to continue."

"I agree," Spock said.

"These beings, Spock, they have a right to decide their own future and place in the universe, but I worry that for all of the progress that humanity has made, that our galaxy has made, it is not enough to stop someone from abusing the nature of these creatures. It puts us in a difficult position. Would you be able to... ask them what they want?"

"I believe I could," Spock said, and let himself slip back into the bond with the species. It was easier this time. His mind fell effortlessly back into contact. He could sense them in his mind, expansive and stretching out wide beneath the surface of the planet. Spock refocused his thoughts on the universe, the Federation and what it stood for, as well as the other aliens, the good and bad people Spock had encountered in his life, what space travel felt like, the possibilities and dangers it offered. 

In response he felt curiosity, interest to learn, but it was measured. Constrained by a powerful desire for safety, and a fear of Chadwick, as well as a strong sense of contentment and home.

He turned back towards Jim. "They are happy here. They are able to create everything they need here on this planet. They are... a complete community. They are not opposed to the presence of outsiders, but they are fearful. They wish to remain alone."

Jim nodded solemnly. "Then we will make sure that is what happens. Now, we are going to need their help to get out of here, and possibly to deal with Chadwick. Do you think they can handle that?"

"Yes," Spock said, as the answer resonated through his mind.

The walk back towards the cavern where they had found Chadwick went quickly. Spock was sure to listen carefully for any approaching noises. It appeared that Chadwick had set up a make-shift camp where they had encountered him before, and it was the most likely option, but Spock was careful not to assume safety in any situation. 

It was a unique experience, Spock mused as they walked, having the connection with the lifeforms echoing in the back of his mind, the connection apparent in the way the walls around them would occasionally widen to allow the pair of them to pass side-by-side.

They approached the opening from the tunnel into the cavern slowly. Jim held up a hand, and crouched down with his back pressed against the wall, a few feet from the opening. He motioned to Spock, who easily followed his wordless instructions, and crept close enough that he could see the interior of the cavern. Chadwick was sitting idly on a chair he had clearly brought down from his starship. He tossed a piece of stone against the wall, and caught it as it came back to him, boredom and disdain evident on his face. The two scientists were in the other corner. They sat close together, and leaned over a container with scanning devices pointed at it. There were no other presences, and Spock wondered for a moment whether there were more men on the ship, or if Chadwick had only convinced two others to join him on this expedition. 

Spock looked back at Jim, who nodded his command silently. It was simple now, imagining the way he wanted the lifeforms to move and behave. With just a quick flash of a thought they sprang into action. The ground underneath Chadwick's chair began to shift, and then rope-like cords of purple light crept up his leg. It took him a moment to notice. 

"Hey! What the fuck is going on here? Are you doing this?" He attempted to swat away the ropes with his hands, but they encircled him tighter until he was completely bound and pressed against the wall. He opened his mouth to yell again, which did not seem necessary so Spock quickly imagined a gag, and the beings created one.

Jim walked up next to him with a smile quirking on his lips. "Logical move, Mr. Spock," he said in a low voice.

Jim jumped down out of the tunnel into the cavern, and smiled broadly at Chadwick, though the smile carried no warmth. 

"Well, here we are again," he said, and slowly walked up so he was eye-to-eye with Chadwick. "Now, let me catch you up, because the last time we spoke I had much less information than I do now. For one, I think I've worked out what it is you're doing here."

Chadwick glared steadily into Jim's face, whose own expression did not falter. Spock stood a few steps behind him. He could sense the satisfaction his captain was getting from this interaction.

"Now, unless I am mistaken, you, despite your adamant claims that you despise its existence, are still a citizen of the Federation, are you not?" He paused and gave the other man a questioning look, who in return continued to glare. "You continue to benefit from its protection and welfare, no?" 

Spock imagined the gag around his mouth loosening, and the purple light covering his mouth faded.

Chadwick took the opportunity to spit vulgarly, but did not answer Jim's enquiries. 

"That's alright. I already know the answer. Which is why I know you are also subject to the Federation's laws, and can be punished accordingly when you've violated them. Now, Mr. Spock," he said brightly, and turned back towards Spock, "can you think of any Federation laws that Chadwick may have broken?"

"Certainly, Captain," Spock said. "The Federation Code of Ethical Scientific Practices clearly states that no individual or organization may conduct experimentation on a sentient life form without explicit consent. The code also states that—"

"I think that one right there is enough, Mr. Spock. Thank you."

"Sentient? These things aren’t sentient!" Chadwick said swatting again at his bonds. 

"No?" Jim asked as the ropes around Chadwick tightened until he coughed. "I think we have enough evidence that they are."

Spock's focus quickly shifted to the two other men who had dropped their scanners. They had begun to slowly walk towards Jim, and one carried a shovel. "Captain," Spock said, in warning.

"As for these other two gentlemen," Jim said quickly, turning to face them, "do you think they'll come with us willingly? Or do we need to see them bound like their fearless leader over here?"

Ropes began forming around the feet of the scientists. The shovel fell to the floor, and the men stumbled backwards. "We'll come willingly,” said one, “We were just..." He faltered under Jim's sharp glance. 

"Well, lead the way then," he said simply. "To the surface."

The ropes dissipated, and the two men quickly began down an upward-turning tunnel. Jim followed, and Spock instructed the beings to carry Chadwick floating a few feet off the ground, but still tightly bound.

Jim breathed a sigh of relief when the cold air of the surface hit his face. He flicked open his communicator, and flashed a brief smile at Spock. Now that they were almost back, almost home, it was getting more and more difficult for him to keep his thoughts from drifting back to what had happened in the cave between the two of them. There was an important discussion to come, one Jim hoped would go well. He still regretted that he hadn't taken the time to talk things through more before, but he had been... desperate, quite frankly, and not in full control. But for now there were other things that required his attention.

"Kirk to Enterprise," he said.

"Captain!" Uhura's clear voice rang back through the device. "Are you and Mr. Spock, alright?"

"Mostly unharmed, and back on the surface, Lieutenant. Are Ensigns Roone and Astin alright?”

“Yes, Sir. Alive and well.”

Jim smiled in relief. “We're ready to beam up, but before we do, beam down some electromagnetic restraints. We have three prisoners with us."

"Yes, Captain. I'll tell Scotty to stop working on his... drill. He's going to be disappointed."

Jim laughed, "Tell him I'm looking forward to reviewing his specs. Maybe we'll find a use for it later on down the line. And, Lieutenant, have a medical team standing by. I'm not sure Mr. Spock's... stitches are going to be coming along. Kirk out."

He gave Spock a concerned glance, his eyes flitting down to the torn uniform along his abdomen. He was healed, but he didn't intend to bring any of these lifeforms back to the ship, not when they had clearly stated a desire to remain here undisturbed. The scar of light across Spock's skin was still clear. He stepped closer to Spock, and spoke in a low voice so as not to be overheard. 

"Do you think the wound will stay closed - stay healed - without them?"

"I am not sure. I was not able to obtain a full healing trance, so it is possible the wound has not healed naturally."

Jim nodded, and reminded himself of the competency of his medical team. Bones could fix damn near anything. Spock gave him a pointed look, and Jim stepped back, securing the restraints that had appeared next to them to Chadwick's arms. He glanced back at Spock who nodded as the purple ropes began to dissolve. They lingered in a puddle on the ground before being absorbed back underground. 

Jim was grateful for the distractions of reports and prisoner transfers, even grateful for the call from the admiralty. It kept his mind away from the med bay. Spock would be fine. There was only slight bleeding once the creatures had left the wound. However, Jim was grateful to have tasks that kept him from seeing Spock. He had felt uncharacteristically nervous since returning to the ship, convinced that what had happened between him and Spock in the cavern was some kind of telepathically-induced hallucination, and he would be rejected the moment he tried to bring it up with the Vulcan. Eventually he ran out of tasks to do, and decided he had been allowing himself to act the coward for long enough. 

"Well, there you are," Bones voice called out, before Jim had even fully entered the room. "I was wondering what was wrong. Usually there's no force in the quadrant that could keep you from haunting my sick bay when—"

Jim held up a hand to cut him off. "Is he—?"

"He's fine. He's fine. Don't know how they did it, but the wound was totally healed. I'd like to be able to get my hands on a sample, Jim." Bones shook his head at the stern look Jim flashed. "I know. I know. Anyway, the good news, I suppose, is Spock is fine. Just keeping him here to monitor any telepathic injury from melding with an unknown species." 

"Thanks, Bones," Jim said sincerely. He knew that getting Spock to stay in the med bay for monitoring was a feat unto itself. He clasped Bones on the shoulder, and then walked over to Spock's bed. 

Bones looked between the two of them, and then excused himself to his office. 

Jim clasped his hands together, and propped himself on the bed across from Spock. 

Spock's gaze felt intense and loaded. Jim cleared his throat, and tried to stop the flush from rising on his cheeks. "Well, Chadwick and his men are in the brig. We'll be rendezvousing with a holding ship shortly. And I finished all the reports."

"What did you say about the lifeforms we encountered?" Spock asked.

"I said they were a subterranean inter-connected organism that had no advanced technology, or desire to connect with other worlds."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

"It's all true. I didn't think there was any need to mention any of their more... unique abilities. No point in having that on the record... just in case."

There was a smile in Spock's eyes as he responded. "Indeed."

There was a pause, and Jim rubbed his hands over his face. "Spock," he began, "I don't... what happened between us in the cavern. I don't want there to be any more misunderstandings. That was..."

He couldn't help himself from looking at Spock, but his face was closed. Shit, he was doing it again. Why was it so damn difficult to be clear about this? Jim bit his lip. He knew that it was because he was still trying to hold back. Part of him was still worried that Spock would be overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions for him, or that he would be repulsed by them. Jim, himself, sometimes felt overwhelmed by them, and he didn't even have a Vulcan's sensibilities. But there was no going halfway with this. There was no going halfway with Jim, and certainly not where Spock was concerned. 

Jim moved to the side of Spock's bed, and allowed himself to reach out to him. He ran his fingers along Spock's arm until he reached his wrist. He let the tips of his fingers stay pressed there Spock's skin, hot and tingling underneath his own, monitoring his steady pulse. 

"Spock, if you'll allow me a very human emotional outburst..."

Spock was smiling at him now, his eyes warm and amused. Jim sighed in relief and continued, "I love you. I want to be with you, in every way you'll have me. From now until you're done with me."

Spock slowly moved his arm so his and Jim's fingers were touching. He pressed them together before interlacing their fingers. Jim shuddered slightly both at the intimacy of the gesture, and the look of desire that transformed Spock's face. 

"I would be amenable to that," Spock said.

"Is that so?" Jim said, leaning closer. 

"Indeed," Spock replied.

Jim rubbed his thumb along the edge of Spock’s and smiled at the sight of their intertwined fingers. Once again, he found himself in a position of wanting to ask for more when he already was blessed with so much. He looked back to Spock’s face, serene and content. He watched as arousal glinted in Spock’s eyes as Jim moved his fingers gently along Spock’s own. 

“Those creatures,” Jim began, “I can’t help but think how lucky they are.”

Spock raised his eyebrows at that comment and paused to consider it. “They do possess a unique ability.”

“Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. They got to… be in your mind,” Jim said, and bit his lip. 

Spock’s brows came together momentarily. “Jim, you’ve also been in my mind.”

Jim’s soft laugh fell out as he continued to run his fingers along Spock’s. “That hardly counts. That’s always been… necessary. They got to—” Jim struggled for the right word, “got to explore.” He gently removed his hand from Spock’s, and brought it up so his fingers brushed lightly across Spock’s temples. 

“What that must have been like for them. To be immersed in your mind. I— is that possible for me? For us?”

Spock sat. The blanket fell from his chest, and he pulled Jim down onto the bed so he was sitting next to him. His gaze was intent and deliberate. The pads of his fingers grazed over the side of Jim’s face and he looked at him in question.

Jim nodded and wiped his hands on his thighs. The few times they had done this before had been out of necessity. It was always rushed and hectic, but even then Jim had felt the intense pull of his mind reaching for Spocks, the almost unbearable need for _more_. He wondered how Spock could have missed that. No matter how many mental doors he closed his love behind, he couldn’t imagine how Spock could miss his mind’s eagerness to join with his own. 

Spock was still hesitating, those cool fingers tickling the fine hairs by Jim’s brow. “Are you sure?” 

“God, yes,” Jim said. And Spock’s fingers pressed against his meld points. Jim watched Spock’s eyes flutter shut, watched a swallow travel down his throat before he shut his own eyes. 

“My mind to your mind; my thoughts to your thoughts.”

The sensation started as a prickling, pleasant and warm around his mind. Tendrils of Spock’s thoughts gently moving into his own. His presence felt steady and smooth, and it swept into him, bringing with it an overwhelming sense of belonging, of wholeness. He felt his mind stretch out towards Spock’s, intertwine with it. He _felt_ Spock. Felt his relief, his measured delight, his fondness. Tried to project the extent of his own love back. If words were insufficient then perhaps his thoughts would show Spock just how much this meant to him.

He felt a delicate wave of amusement move back towards him.

 _You do not have to be so forceful, Jim. I can feel it_.

Jim winced. _Was that the mental equivalent of shouting into the comm?_

_Yes, but your... enthusiasm is appreciated._

Jim smiled and tried to let his love and contentment just rise from his chest and surround them. 

_God, Spock, this feels amazing. I wish we could stay like this forever_.

_That may impact our ability to do our jobs. However, we can stay... connected. If that is something you desire._

_Yes._ Jim wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he felt himself stretch further into Spock, seeking the connection he was thinking of. 

_Not now, ashayam. We have time._

Jim smiled and tried to still his clambering mind. Time. Time with Spock, like this, together. It felt like too good of a prospect to put into a single thought. Instead, he took a steadying breath and let everything wash over him, no longer trying to distinguish his own feelings or thoughts from Spock’s, image of mountains and thunderstorms floating through him. Warm, honey-colored feelings enveloping them. _Gratitude, affection, peace. Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Here I love you  
> In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.  
> The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters  
> Days, all one kind, go chasing each other
>> 
>> The snow unfurls in dancing figures.  
> A silver gull slips down from the west.  
> sometimes a sail. High, high stars.
>> 
>> Oh the black cross of a ship.  
> Alone.  
> Sometimes I get up early and even my soul is wet.  
> Far away the sea sounds and resounds.  
> This is a port.  
> Here I love you.
>> 
>> Here I love you and the horizon hides you in vain.  
> I love you still among these cold things.  
> Sometimes my kisses go on those heavy vessels  
> that cross the sea towards no arrival.  
> I see myself forgotten like those old anchors.  
> The piers sadden when the afternoon moors there.  
> My life grows tired, hungry to no purpose.  
> I love what I do not have. You are so far.  
> My loathing wrestles with the slow twilights.  
> But night comes and starts to sing to me.  
> The moon turns its clockwork dream.
>> 
>> The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.  
> And as I love you, the pines in the wind  
> want to sing your name with their leaves of wire.
>> 
>> _-Pablo Neruda_
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr [here](https://m-b-w.tumblr.com/)


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